


how rare and beautiful it truly is that we exist

by annella



Series: how rare and beautiful [2]
Category: Compilation of Final Fantasy VII, Final Fantasy VII (Video Game 1997), Final Fantasy VII Remake (Video Game 2020), Final Fantasy VII: Advent Children
Genre: Angst, Angst and Feels, Chronic Illness, Chronic Pain, Lust Potion/Spell, M/M, Sex Pollen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-24
Updated: 2020-10-24
Packaged: 2021-03-09 01:07:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,793
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27175654
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/annella/pseuds/annella
Summary: Rufus’s body is slowly but surely falling apart, but he still has the occasional good day between all the bad ones. This time, he asks Tseng to bring out the materia he bought all those years ago to give him some assistance in enjoying his day.
Relationships: Rufus Shinra/Tseng
Series: how rare and beautiful [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1989199
Comments: 40
Kudos: 65





	how rare and beautiful it truly is that we exist

**Author's Note:**

> Set just before Advent Children. This is much whumpier than I usually write, please let me know what you think!
> 
> This is technically a successor to Sweet Wine and Pomegranate but you don’t have to read that first. Basic premise: Rufus bought a lust materia on the black market. It was very effective.
> 
> Title is taken from Saturn by Sleeping At Last, which I had on repeat while I wrote this.

It was going to be a good day. 

Once Rufus was awake, he usually had a fair idea of how his day was going to be. There were days when simply opening his eyes was too much; the days when every movement, every breath inhaled through his creaking lungs was agonising. The days when he needed Tseng's help with everything, both of them stoic and accepting of Rufus' limitations. He’d long given up being angry about it, because the simple fact was that he needed Tseng. He needed his Turk to lift him out of bed into his wheelchair, take him to the bathroom, bathe him, feed him, and read to him to try to distract him from his creeping illness. 

Those days were the darkest. His geostigma lesions were worse on those days, seeping black pus through his bandages, staining his clothing and the bed and Tseng's hands as he changed the dressings, every touch careful and tender. 

But then there were days like today, when the cocktail of medicine and materia the doctors gave him was able to cut through the grinding, stuttering pain and reduce the discomfort of his lesions. Those days he could get to the bathroom by himself and even join the others for meals, his hands shaking as he slowly fed himself. 

Rufus lived for days like that, although they were becoming rarer as time passed. 

"Tseng," he murmured, his eyes still closed. He could feel Tseng's warm body lying next to him in bed, and reached across to take his hand. His Turk spent every night with him, caring for him when he woke in the darkest hours grunting in pain, unable to move, to think, wanting that comfort of his lover to carry him through to morning. Even if it was just Tseng's hand on him, laid gently on his forehead, holding his hand as he gritted his teeth, stroking his back if he woke up too sick to move and needed to retch into the bucket they kept by the side of the bed. 

"Hmm," Tseng mumbled, squeezing Rufus' hand. He rolled to face him, his dark hair spread across the pillow and his face relaxed in sleep, and Rufus smiled. He had an idea for what they could do today, and he stroked Tseng's face gently, running his fingers over his lover’s pale skin and down to his lips. Tseng absent-mindedly kissed his fingertips, his eyes still closed, and Rufus shifted over in bed to replace his fingers with his mouth. 

"Oh," Tseng breathed as he woke, kissing Rufus back without a second thought. It was warm, soft, comfortable in the morning light, and Rufus stretched, relishing the movement of his arms and legs as he and Tseng shared kisses the like of which had been far too rare lately. 

"Wake up," Rufus said quietly, and Tseng's eyes finally opened, blurry and sleepy, taking a moment to focus on Rufus. 

"A good day?" he asked, smiling faintly as he reached over and ran a hand through Rufus' hair. Rufus smiled back at him and nodded. 

"What should we do with it?" Tseng asked.

"I have an idea." Rufus kissed him again, running his hand down Tseng's chest to his hip, and then between his legs. Tseng's cock was soft from sleep, but it twitched under Rufus' fingers. 

"Rufus—"

"I had a _very_ nice dream last night," Rufus murmured, moving to Tseng's neck and placing open-mouthed kisses on the sensitive skin below his ear. He kept stroking him through his sleep pants, the soft cotton barely a barrier as he felt him firming up. Tseng's hips shifted, pressing slightly into Rufus' touch. 

"Are you going to tell me about it?"

“Mmm.” Rufus shifted slightly, tugging gently at Tseng to get him to move closer. Years ago he would have had Tseng on his back underneath him by now, his clothing stripped off him and Rufus’ mouth energetically swallowing his cock. But he relied on Tseng to do all the moving now, and his lover acquiesced without question, shuffling closer to Rufus and placing his gentle hands on his body.

Rufus had seen those hands kill without hesitation. He’d seen them with blood on them, caked under the fingernails, streaked all over those slender fingers and up Tseng’s arms. He’d seen Tseng choke the life out of a man when no other option remained; he’d seen him stab, shoot, even poison. What he hadn’t seen, he’d heard about: Tseng was a killer, the most feared of the Turks.

But Rufus had had nothing but tender touches from Tseng. He tolerated no other hands but Tseng’s to comfort him when he was in so much pain his jaw ached from grinding his teeth. In all their years together, no one had ever touched him with such intense love in their hands, and no one else ever would. 

Rufus didn’t know how much time he had left, but he knew it wouldn’t be long. Months, maybe. A year if he was lucky. He knew Tseng was aware of time slipping away like sand being held in a fist, knew it from the way Tseng held onto him almost too tight, from those times when Tseng was gone from his side and returned with a stoic expression.

He’d heard Tseng crying at night, stifled sobs nearly silent in the dark, and been able to do nothing more than reach out and take his hand. 

Rufus sometimes wondered how he would cope if their positions were reversed, if Tseng was the one dying before Rufus' eyes of a hideous, wasting illness. What would he do, how would he react? Just the thought of it left him breathless with sadness, his heart aching in his chest. He knew; he wouldn’t cope, and he wondered where Tseng pulled his strength from.

“Keeping me in suspense?” Tseng asked, sliding his hand down into Rufus’ underwear. He was half hard already, and he moaned as Tseng held him in a loose grip. 

“Do you remember… the first time we used that materia?”

Tseng chuckled, kissing his way down Rufus’ jaw, avoiding the bandages on his neck and placing careful kisses on his chest. “How could I forget? We slept for almost fifteen hours after that.”

“Hmm. Five orgasms in an hour, if I recall.”

“Did you dream about that?” Tseng tightened his grip slightly, stroking Rufus firmly as his cock hardened further. Rufus had heard horrific stories of people with geostigma being affected in their groin, of cocks rotting from the inside out and being rendered useless, and he was immensely relieved that he had so far escaped that fate. His cock was in perfect working order, and it jumped in Tseng’s hand as he groaned and bucked his hips.

“And all the times we used it after that,” Rufus said, panting a little as his battered lungs struggled to draw enough breath. Tseng moderated his pace, allowing Rufus to take a deep breath in and exhale slowly. He was already getting tired, his arousal flagging, and Tseng slid closer, pressing his body against Rufus’s side as he continued kissing his way down his chest.

“I particularly remember the time you blocked off an entire day and we tested out how many times we could come. At least we were prepared that time.”

Rufus chuckled. He’d managed to hit ten orgasms before passing out, Tseng nine, and although they’d both been useless for the next two days as their exhausted bodies recovered, it had been worth it. “Did you—did you want to try it again?”

Tseng looked up sharply, his forehead creased up in a frown. Rufus took a moment to admire him in the growing light of day, of his tousled hair with a few streaks of silver at the temples, the creases from the pillow on his face, and considered himself the luckiest man in the world to be able to see Tseng just after he’d woken up. “Rufus,” he began, his voice hesitant, and his hand stopped its movement on his cock.

“Not the full blast,” Rufus hastened to add. “I think that would kill me.” He chuckled wryly, and Tseng did not join in, still frowning at him.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” he said softly, his gaze flicking down Rufus’ body. “You’re—you don’t have—you can’t—”

“Like I said,” Rufus interrupted, “ _not_ full blast. You know how to cast it at a lower strength, yes? Just enough to help me out a bit?”

“Yes, but—”

“Tseng,” Rufus snapped, his patience wearing thin. “If you don’t want to fuck me, just say so.”

Tseng sighed, his head falling forward. Strands of hair, loose from the braid he wore it in at night, fell across Rufus’ torso, tickling him where he wasn’t bandaged. “I would like nothing more,” he admitted. “Permit me to worry about you a little, though.”

“You wouldn’t be Tseng if you didn’t worry about me,” Rufus murmured, running a hand through Tseng’s hair, removing the hair tie and deftly untangling the braid. Tseng looked up at him, his hair in his face, and gave him a wry smile.

  
  
The materia had been tucked away in a small box since before Rufus’ diagnosis, before everything in their lives changed. Rufus hadn’t even considered its use until now, forgetting that it had other benefits aside from a ridiculous number of orgasms. But after waking from a dream in which Tseng had fucked him three times in a row, with barely a break between, then sucked his cock until his toes curled and he almost pulled a muscle in his neck from coming so hard, there was really no other option than to get it out again.

Rufus smiled when he saw the pink and purple glow lighting up Tseng’s face, the materia balanced on his palm, and felt the familiar sensation of warmth running through him. Even being in the materia’s presence was enough to create a low thrum of arousal in his battered body, his cock slowly filling up again and a renewed energy permeating his stiff limbs.

“Ready?” Tseng asked, kneeling on the bed next to Rufus. Rufus cast an admiring glance over Tseng’s naked body, taking in his lean form, his still well-muscled chest and abdomen, the scars decorating his torso and arms from the years spent in the service of Shinra. His gaze landed on Tseng’s cock, hard and jutting out from the nest of black curls at the base, and his mouth watered at the thought of getting that cock in his mouth. Maybe, if Tseng knelt over him—

“Ready,” Rufus breathed, running a hand over Tseng’s hip. He felt like he might not even need the materia, felt ready to spread his legs for his Turk right here and now, but it wouldn’t hurt to have a little bit of help. He knew he’d probably suffer for this later, spending all his energy on sex instead of eating, bathing, talking, but right here and now he couldn’t think of anything else he’d rather be doing.

Tseng nodded and closed his fist around the materia, his eyes falling shut as he concentrated. A warm light spread out from him, smelling of bergamot, spice, neroli, and Rufus inhaled deeply as it penetrated his body, enveloping him in a sense of contentment. He tasted pomegranate, sharp and sweet, and smiled up at Tseng, whose eyes were wide and dark, his mouth partly open as he sighed.

It worked quickly; Rufus felt his body start to respond, his limbs languid with arousal, his fingers and toes tingling and his joints trembling as he breathed a little quicker, a little deeper. 

Tseng was frowning down at him, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he experienced the same sensations as Rufus. “Is it—are you alright?”

“Mmm.” Rufus smiled wider, lifting a hand to stroke Tseng’s face. Tseng turned to kiss his palm, and Rufus reached up with his other hand to pull Tseng down against him.

Tseng’s mouth tasted of wine, sweet and heady, and Rufus moaned as his slick tongue confidently swiped into Rufus’ mouth. He had wondered, in the past, where the tastes and scents came from, and asked Tseng why he thought he tasted wine.

Tseng had laughed softly and reminded Rufus of that time they had gotten drunk on dessert wines pilfered from his father’s cellar and fucked on the rug in his room, so desperate for each other’s touch that they didn’t make it to the bed. It was, Tseng admitted, the moment he realised he was in love.

“And you?” he’d asked, kissing Rufus again. “Why pomegranate?” It had been a glitzy ball, thrown to celebrate some ridiculous achievement Shinra had made, and Rufus had sulked all the way through it, wanting nothing more than to be in the arms of his Turk. He’d spotted Tseng in the corner, on duty, his dark eyes fixed on Rufus, and they’d ended up sneaking away to have sex in Rufus’ suite. There’d been a fruit basket there, and as they lounged naked on the plush couch, Tseng had cut open a pomegranate and fed Rufus the seeds, red juice dripping down his fingers for Rufus to lick up. Rufus had known, at that moment, that he could never let Tseng go.

Rufus wondered if the materia would be better called _love materia_.

"What do you want me to do?" Tseng asked, lying next to Rufus, his hard cock pressed into Rufus' bony hip. Rufus shifted, grunted, willing his arms and legs to do his bidding.

“I want you to suck my cock,” Rufus said plainly, touching Tseng’s lips, stroking the soft skin and letting out a huff of breath when Tseng kissed his fingertips before gently swirling his tongue around his index finger.

“Lie back,” Tseng instructed, shifting down the bed and arranging Rufus’ legs so they were splayed wide, and Rufus pushed his head back into the pillow, his mouth falling open as Tseng licked a long, slow line from the base of his cock right up to the head. 

Rufus had always said no one rivalled Tseng at giving blowjobs. Tseng would smirk and say, “And how would you know? I’m the only one who’s ever sucked your cock.” Rufus didn’t care; he couldn’t imagine anything better than having Tseng’s mouth on him, that slick tongue working him over, that hot mouth swallowing him down. Tseng liked to take things slowly, almost worshipping Rufus’ cock as he moaned and gasped above him.

He recalled a particularly memorable occasion when he’d been looking out the floor to ceiling windows of his office, admiring the mako-tinged view over Midgar while Tseng was on his knees in front of him, his own pants open and his hand on his cock as he licked and sucked Rufus towards orgasm. Anyone could have looked up and seen them; seen Rufus Shinra getting his cock sucked in full view of the city. Just the thought of that had excited him, and his hand had been tight in Tseng’s hair as his Turk moaned around his cock.

“Gods, Tseng,” he breathed as Tseng kept licking him, slow wide swipes of his tongue, occasionally sliding over the head, teasing droplets of precome out of the slit. His legs shifted on the bed, his hips aching with the need to sling a leg over Tseng’s back, but unable to bear the weight of his own limbs. It was almost like being tied down, and Rufus concentrated on that, pretending his hands and feet were bound with silken ties to keep him from moving.

It made it easier, somewhat. Rufus focused all his energy on Tseng’s mouth, soft lips sliding up and down the shaft of his cock, Tseng’s warm, strong hand stroking him at the base, following the movement of his mouth. The lust thrumming through him from the materia was steady, subtle, enough to enhance his desire but not control it. 

Tseng hummed around his cock, the vibrations making Rufus moan, and he tightened his hand in Tseng’s hair, making a fist to pull it in the way Tseng liked. It was almost torturous, how slowly Tseng was working him over, and Rufus revelled in it. A litany of low moans escaped him as slick heat enveloped his cock, Tseng opening his throat and swallowing him down, and despite himself, Rufus’ hips bucked as he thrust into Tseng’s mouth. 

It had been so long since Rufus had felt like this, so long since he’d been able to relax and let Tseng take care of him. There had been the odd handjob since his diagnosis, but they were often too preoccupied with the trauma of Rufus’ terminal condition to truly let go.

Tears welled in Rufus’ eyes as pleasure flooded his body, a burning pit in his belly spreading out until his fingers and toes tingled with desire. He could feel the mattress shifting under him, could sense Tseng’s movements, the way he thrust his hips against the bed as he took care of Rufus. 

“Tseng,” Rufus gasped, tugging his lover away. He didn’t want to come, not yet, not before he’d been able to enjoy Tseng’s body. Tseng kissed Rufus’ narrow hip, tender touches over his protruding hip bones, across his nearly concave stomach, wasted from his illness, but still beautiful in Tseng’s eyes.

“What do you want?” Tseng asked, peering up at him, and Rufus brushed the hair back from his face and smiled.

"Want your cock in my mouth," he replied, running the backs of his fingers over Tseng's cheek, and he cursed his weakness, wishing he could get Tseng straddling his face, gagging Rufus with his cock like he used to do to shut him up. 

Tseng considered. "Here," he said after a moment, "let me." He sat up and helped Rufus shift down the bed a little, lying him on his side, and then he turned around so his hips were in line with Rufus' face. 

" _Oh,"_ Rufus breathed, reaching out to grasp Tseng's cock. All he had to do was open his mouth and he could take in the head, and Tseng let out a low moan as Rufus slid his tongue over the hot, velvety skin. He still remembered this, the taste of salt, the weight of Tseng’s cock on his tongue, the scent of musk, and he hadn’t forgotten how to drive Tseng wild.

He reached up with a clumsy hand and placed it on Tseng’s hip, caressing the curve of his ass as he leaned in a little and ran his tongue down the shaft, wide smooth licks slicking Tseng up and making him twitch. 

He almost shouted when he felt Tseng’s mouth on him again, swallowing him all the way down until Rufus’ cock was sliding into his throat. He almost forgot what he was doing, too focused on the way Tseng’s nose was buried in the short curls at the base of his cock.

Tseng grunted and pressed his hips forward, and Rufus let out a whine as the head of Tseng’s cock bumped against his lips, salty precome staining them. He licked it up, taking hold of the shaft and sliding his tongue back down it, taking as much into his mouth as he could. It was hard to focus, so hard to keep concentrating on the task in front of him when that talented mouth was driving him so close to orgasm he could almost taste it.

When had they first done this? Years ago, when they were both so much younger, in their hedonistic twenties, stealing moments together in secret, planning how Rufus would rule with Tseng at his side. Their evenings were spent sprawled naked on luxurious silks and cottons as they fell in love with each other more every day. Rufus had grabbed Tseng’s hips and pulled him close, opening his mouth with the intent of sucking him until he came down Rufus’ throat, and had been surprised when Tseng had managed to swing a leg over Rufus’ body and take his cock into his mouth as well. They’d come together less than a minute later, driven by each other’s arousal, their shared desperation and intense desire.

How things had changed. Rufus’ neck began to ache, and he grunted in discomfort, prompting Tseng to pull away and turn to face Rufus again, concern writ large on his features.

“I’m fine,” Rufus said, before Tseng could speak. “Just give me a moment.” He stretched his neck out, allowing Tseng to roll him onto his back again, his muscles protesting the change in position. His cock was still hard, straining, the effects of the materia still pounding through him with each throbbing beat of his heart. He wanted, desperately, to come; wanted Tseng to get him there.

Tseng nodded, his gaze worried, but he didn’t question Rufus again. They kissed, slow and steady, a quiet tangle of tongues, until Tseng sat back and gave him an inquiring look.

“What?”

“Did you want me to fuck you?”

Rufus’s cock jumped, lifting off his stomach, his interest obvious. Tseng noticed and smiled, a wicked grin, reaching over to the bedside table and grabbing the seldom-used lube and condoms out of the drawer. 

“You’ll have to do all the work,” Rufus said. “I’ll just lie here and look pretty.”

“And that is different from normal how, exactly?” Tseng raised an eyebrow at him as he popped open the lube, slicking up his fingers as Rufus spread his legs enough for Tseng to crouch between them.

“Remind me why I love you again?” Rufus asked as Tseng carefully lifted one of his legs to his shoulder, allowing Rufus to rest his ankle next to Tseng’s neck. He was stiff, sore, the muscles protesting the extension, but he ignored his body’s protests and forced himself to relax as Tseng slid his fingers into him. 

He was good at this, his Turk, an expert with his hands. He could find weak spots in an enemy as easily as he could pinpoint the muscles which were troubling Rufus the most, focusing in on them and drawing out the pain until Rufus was able to relax, to sleep, to function. And he could so swiftly, so effortlessly, find Rufus’ prostate and mercilessly focus on it, pressing those slender fingers into him and rubbing that one place inside him which made him forget about his illness.

“Oh,” Rufus gasped, his toes curling and his fingers clutching at the blankets beneath him. This had always felt good, always made him desperate for Tseng’s cock in him, but the materia heightened the sensation, sending waves of arousal through Rufus’ battered body, lending strength to his tired limbs, and he bucked his hips against Tseng’s hand. “Tseng, I need you, _please.”_

Tseng’s breathing was as laboured as Rufus’, his chest heaving as he panted, his face flushed with arousal. His hands shook slightly as he withdrew his fingers, leaving Rufus feeling empty.

It was the work of moments to roll on a condom, and then Tseng was poised at his entrance, one hand gentle on the leg above his shoulder, the other cupping the back of his other thigh. “Ready?” Tseng asked, the head of his cock just nudging at Rufus, who nodded desperately. Gods, but he hadn’t felt this heady desperation in so long he’d almost forgotten what it was to need to be fucked, here, now, _now now now._

The slow slide of Tseng’s cock into him was almost torturous. Rufus moaned loudly, the sound rumbling out of his chest as his breath was driven from his lungs by the feel of Tseng entering him. The stretch wasn’t even slightly uncomfortable, the spell cast from the materia helping him relax through it, and it wasn’t long before Tseng was fully seated inside him.

For a moment, they were both still, silent, sounds of early morning birdsong coming through the window. In the distance, Rufus could hear the clattering of pots and pans in the kitchen as Rude made breakfast.

Tseng’s head hung low, his breathing loud as he held still. Between one breath and another, Rufus could almost see the shape of the love they shared.

_“I love you,” Rufus murmured, wine staining his lips as he kissed Tseng, desperate and needy in the dark._

_“Rufus—” Tseng started, but Rufus kissed him again, their lips parting, sharing the heady high of alcohol and lust and adrenaline._

_“I mean it,” Rufus insisted. His hands slid up Tseng’s side, over his arm, cupping his face as they kissed again and again, tongues tangling messily, hands gripping faces and combing through hair. “I love you, I love you, I love—”_

_“I love you too,” Tseng gasped, breaking away from the kiss and burying his face in Rufus’ shoulder. To think it had taken Rufus nearly being killed for them to finally confess what they had both known for years, and Rufus’ heart swelled as he clutched Tseng against him, refusing to let him go._

“Rufus,” Tseng gasped as he shifted, his hips moving only slightly, his cock pressing deep inside Rufus. “Gods, Rufus, you feel—you feel so good.”

“Please,” Rufus forced out, too weak to move, echoes of pain starting to threaten his body. He knew he would pay for this later, would be unable to move, but it was enough now to have Tseng over him, in him, surrounding his very being as they shared this moment. Sweat was beading on his body, sliding down his temples to stain the bandages and pillow beneath him, and he let out a loud moan when Tseng finally moved.

It was slow, languorous, and Rufus’ eyes closed as Tseng pressed his cock against his prostate, sliding in and out with such tenderness that it almost brought tears to Rufus’ eyes. He was bathed in warmth, in love, in that taste of sweet wine, the scent of the cologne Tseng used to wear filling his senses as Tseng made love to him in a way he’d never experienced before. 

He was, he suddenly realised between one breath and another, about to come, and he reached down with a trembling hand to loosely grasp his cock, grunting when his fingers spasmed and refused to work properly. Tseng took over, kissing his ankle and stroking his cock firmly as he kept thrusting, and Rufus’ entire body seized up with his orgasm. 

It had never been quite like this before, starting slow and warm in his toes and moving up his body until it encompassed his very being. A purple haze filled his vision, the sharp taste of pomegranate burst into his mouth, and his entire body contracted as he came, coating Tseng’s hand and his stomach with his release. He realised his cries had been loud, echoing off the walls of the small room, but he didn’t care as he fell back to the bed, wrung out. 

Tseng was there a moment later, his own orgasm flooding his body as he stiffened up between Rufus’ thighs, his hand tight on his leg, stuttering over his cock, and moments later he was sprawled next to Rufus on the bed, drawing great heaving breaths as his body recovered from the intensity of his release.

“Tseng,” Rufus murmured, grimacing as the effects of the materia started to ebb out of him, leaving him sore, stiff, his lesions under the bandages burning and sending stabs of pain through his body.

Tseng shifted next to him, discarding the condom, and vanished briefly into the bathroom before returning with a washcloth soaked in warm water. He carefully sponged Rufus down, cleaning his stomach, his cock, down between his legs, as Rufus grimaced with every movement.

He must have fallen asleep, because when he woke the room was bright, the sun streaming through the half-closed curtains. Tseng was sitting up in bed next to him, dressed in loose cotton pajamas and reading a book.

“Hey,” Rufus said, attempting to roll over and put an arm around him. His body screamed at him, splintering pain skittering through his arms and legs, and he sighed, flopping back down again.

“Was it worth it?” Tseng asked, putting the book down and lying down, pressing his body against Rufus’ side. The steady heat of him grounded Rufus, and he clutched Tseng’s hand as the spasms of pain slowly eased.

“Absolutely,” Rufus replied, the ghost of a smile on his face. 

Tseng laughed softly, the first time Rufus had heard him laugh in months, and his smile grew wider. Even if they only had a few more months together, they could still do more than simply exist: they could _live._

**Author's Note:**

> Please find me on twitter so we can yell about the Turks together: sherribon


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